Fate of the Chosen
by LadyHorror92
Summary: A lot can change from the jamming of a gun, and Danny's gun jammed. Left behind by his brother and Kate, the reaper seems like the only one left to keep Brian company in his final hours. But not all die from the virus. When he is found by a group of survivors and a bitter young woman named Carla, he discovers that even he can have a second chance when faced with immunity...Brian/OC
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **_**I absolutely loved the movie, but was disappointed that Brian died, as well as the lack of fics. So, I decided to make a contribution to this category. I've altered the ending to the movie and will continue on from there.**_

_**Will eventually be Brian/OC.**_

_**While I do write for the fun of it, this fic with stay afloat permitted reviews allow it. Follows and Favorites are nice, but I like having some input, even if it's just to say that you like the latest chapter. So for those of you reading this, I ask that you please review.**_

_**I'm not looking for long, deep reviews, even though those kind of reviews are fantastic – just reading that you're happy with how things are progressing would be great. I'll even take a smiley face!**_

_**As I am working on multiple fics, the time between updates may vary, though I'll try to update as often as possible.**_

**Summary: **_**So much can change from the jamming of a gun, and Danny's gun jammed. Now, left behind by his little brother and Kate, the reaper seems to be the only one left to keep Brian company in his final hours. But not all die from the virus, and when Brian is found by a group of survivors and a bitter young woman named Carla, he discovers that immunity can be just as deadly in a paranoid world, and that even he can have a second chance to do things right.**_

**Disclaimer: **_**I do not own **_**"Carriers"**_**. If I did, things in the movie would have taken a different turn.**_

* * *

The events of the day were cloudy at best in Brian's mind, but he knew that he should be dead, the pain of the virus put to an end. And yet the pain continued, threatened to make him blackout yet again.

If one was infected, they were to be left behind. That was the rule, and Brian no longer cared for the rule he'd made. The notion of dying a slow, painful death all alone was enough to make him lapse into a mild panic attack when he was left alone for just a second, and he'd reacted by asking Danny for the keys to the SUV.

Brian couldn't risk infecting his little brother, but he sure as hell wasn't going to die along like Frank, his little girl… like Bobby. It just wasn't happening.

Because he didn't think he had the nerve to kill himself and knew Danny wouldn't shoot him without reason, he made sure that once he passed out – he knew he was bound to sooner or later – Danny would take the wrong keys if he tried to leave. Sure enough, Danny and Kate did try to leave the moment they thought he was out cold, and he'd risen to his feet as he came out of his daze in order to set his plan into motion.

Danny begged him for the keys, and Brian told him that if he wanted them then he had to shoot him. Danny didn't want to, and Brian demanded that he do so. Brian said he didn't give a damn about the rules, and Danny pointed out he made them as he cocked the gun in preparation to fire. Brian praised his brother, knowing he'd taught him well, and then Danny pulled the trigger.

Only nothing happened because the gun jammed, unwilling to fire lest the problem be fixed.

Brian wasn't sure who was more shocked, himself or his little brother, and neither knew what to do next, but Danny wasn't going to try again to shoot, unable to bring himself to do so. Thus they went back to the fire, at which point Brian fell unconsciousness more thoroughly than last time.

There was a blanket tightly around him that wasn't there before as he lay on his side next to the boulder, and through glassy eyes he noticed that the SUV was gone.

Danny had gotten the keys and he and Kate left him behind, just as they'd planned to do in the first place.

Part of Brian wanted to hate his brother for leaving him to die alone, but he couldn't ever really hate him, not when he wasn't sure he'd be able to shoot Danny if their roles were reversed.

Looking towards the fire, Brian spotted a couple cans of food and a bottle of water along with a note on it and tried to sit up only to fall back to the ground with a pained thud, his muscles too sore and stiff to move.

He erupted into a fit of coughs, the taste of blood entering his mouth, and he took in ragged breaths of air before let his eyes fall shut again, grinding his teeth in an attempt to will the immense pain away. It was as if fire was flowing through his veins as knives stabbed at his thigh repeatedly where the telltale rash was located.

All he desired was for it to _stop_!

Through the throbbing headache that threatened to rip his skull in half, Brian heard the faint sound of a car's engine approaching – no, make that two, one engine sounding in good condition and the other rough, threatening to give out.

It ruled out the possibility that Danny was coming back to get him, and Brian's heart pounded in his chest.

Bandits had become a common threat these days, and even he wasn't stupid enough to screw around with them. They'd sooner shoot you than threaten you, and some even took pleasure in killing. Those were not the kind of people he wanted to be confronted with in such a vulnerable state with no weapon to be seen.

The two vehicles parked not too far away from him and the fire, and various doors opened and shut, followed by the voices of a few men and women.

"Told you they left the guy!" hissed one of the guys – a boy, by the sound of it – proudly. "There were three earlier when we drove by, but I only saw two when that SUV passed the motel!"

"How the hell could you tell one SUV from another?" asked an older man tiredly. "Could've been any survivor driving around."

"'Cause there were surf boards on the roof. How many people these days have surf boards?" demanded the boy, voice rising in pitch. "But you saw them earlier, right? When we were checking out the area and saw them around the fire? I told you I saw them driving by, and I was right, wasn't I? See! That's gotta be the third guy!"

"Yeah, yeah, what do you want? A reward?" asked a woman with a sigh. "Show a little respect, why don't you?"

"Think he's alive?" some other guy asked.

"Probably not. Let's just get this over with," she said, yawning.

There was some mumbling before the older man pointed out, "You could've stayed in the truck, Carla."

"And let you guys manhandle a corpse? Pardon me if I have a little more respect for the dead than you."

"It's not that I – "

"Will you two please stop?" asked a girl anxiously. "I don't wanna stay out here longer than we have to. Let's just get the stuff and get back to the motel!"

The two who were bickering fell silent for a moment or two before the man previously arguing with Carla sighed and gave out orders, "Lucy, you and Tyler walk around and see if they left anything behind. Carla, see what you can get off the body."

"What're you going to do?" asked the boy, presumably Tyler.

Already walking off, he called over his shoulder, "To see if Jason and I can do anything about that damn truck. It's not gonna last much longer, and the weight of your bike isn't helping things, Carla. Should just leave the thing – not like you know how to ride it."

"Touch that motorcycle and die, Todd," Carla warned as she approached Brian's prone form, receiving a low chuckle from her friend.

"You and that bike," Todd commented, only faintly amused as he went to do his part.

Brian's heart pounded rapidly within his chest, threatening to jump clean out as panic mixed with adrenaline in his system. Fight or flight kicked in, and though he wasn't the kind of man to run away from anything, he opted not to fight, but he didn't try to run either. In his state he would be lucky just to get to his feet and walk a few inches before collapsing. With his options severely limited, he took a chance and did his best to give the impression that he was dead.

He wanted to die, wanted the searing pain to end, but there were people in this newly darkened world who got a kick out of tormenting the infected before killing them. That wasn't how he wanted to go out, not when he didn't even have the strength to fight back.

And so hit bit down on his tongue hard enough to draw blood and concentrated with all his might not to move and keep his breathing quiet and shallow. The tremors racking through his body had a mind of their own and he dug his blunt nails into the palm of his hand that was pinned between his chest and the ground.

With any luck, the woman would only see if there was anything visibly of use on him, maybe poke him with a stick or something. Anyone with a set of eyes would see that he was infected, and even if they were wearing gloves no one would want to get too close to an infected corpse.

Opening his eyes to thin slits, he just barely made out the feminine figure that was Carla confidently approaching him. The closer she came without hesitation the more worried he became.

How close would she get?

Stopping less than a foot away, the woman paused briefly before nudging him with her boot once, then again, and blood flowed more surely into his mouth the harder he bit his tongue. Just giving him a slight nudge was enough to send waves of pain through his body.

Calling to her friends, she announced, "Looks dead."

"Good," replied Todd, barely heard from the distance between them, swearing suddenly at the truck while the other guy – what was his name, Jason? – laughed. "He got anything on him?"

"I'm looking," she replied, kneeling next to Brian.

Noticing the letter that Danny had left, she cocked her head fractionally and picked it up. To Brian's astonishment, she wore no gloves of any kind, and he noticed that she didn't even have a mask over her mouth and nose.

Was the woman downright insane, or did she have a serious death wish?

No fool would risk touching anything that might have been touched by the infected. It was why Brian, Danny, Bobby, and Kate carried Clorox, sanitizer, and a variety of other things with them. There was just no way of knowing if anything was safe and virus free.

It was like she wasn't even concerned about the possibility of getting infected.

"I found a letter or something," she said to the others.

"What's it say?" asked Lucy, her voice drawing closer.

Carla unfolded the piece of paper and then began to read it just loud enough to be heard by Lucy and Adam as they approached, "Sorry, Brian. I couldn't fix the gun. Didn't want to. I just couldn't pull the trigger twice on my big brother, you know? Kate and I left you some food and water – not much, but it'll keep you until, well, you know." Pausing, looking to the couple cans of food and bottle of water, she sighed and continued, "We're going on with the plan, just so you know. You got us this far, Brian, I'm just sorry you can't come with us. Keep warm and stay hydrated, even if you're hot and not thirsty. I'm really sorry, Brian – Danny and Kate."

Silence followed for several seconds, and bitter tears stung Brian's eyes.

Lucy swallowed and asked quietly, "His own brother left him? Why would he… I mean, how could he just... Why?"

"They probably don't know, Luce," Carla said quietly, folding up the letter and putting it in her back jean pocket. "Lotta people don't."

Don't know?

Don't know _what_?

Brian felt a sharp tickle in the back of his throat as a painful cough begged to be let out, and his eyes watered as the pain grew stronger. He didn't know how much longer he'd be able to keep it up.

Reaching for him, Carla worked on unwrapping the blanket from him and said to Lucy, "Grab the food and water, will you? Not a fan of lima beans, but beggars can't be choosers."

Lima beans – if that was what Danny had left him, he should have fixed the gun and shot him to spare his suffering.

She worked the blanket from him while Lucy did as she was told and retrieved the items, and he shivered as the cold air hit his sweaty skin, cooling his sweat soaked shirt.

The reaction didn't go unnoticed, and Carla hesitated, watching him closely. After a moment, muttering something under her breath, she tossed it to the side before slipping her hand into his jean pocket, undoubtedly seeing the shape of his zippo lighter.

Her hand in his pocket unknowingly put pressure on the telltale rash on his thigh and his willpower left as a pained hiss passed his teeth and he jerked away from her.

"Holy!..." She yanked her hand from his pocket, gripping the lighter tightly, and stumbled back a few feet on her butt, startled out of her skin while Lucy yelped and Tyler swore.

"Todd!" Tyler called loudly. "Todd, get over here!"

With it now pointless to keep up the charade, Brian opened his eyes and spat blood on the ground, attempting to sit up. He just barely got to his hands and knees when the coughing came, making his throat raw as blood rose up to his mouth, mingling with the blood seeping from his tongue, nearly choking him, and he forced himself into a sitting position against the boulder. Shivers consumed him, no longer within his control via the self-inflicted pain of biting his tongue or digging his nails into his palm.

For a moment, he and the woman just stared at each other.

Carla looked to be in her early twenties, around Bobby's age, her chin length dark brown hair falling in her face as she stared at him with wide blue eyes. She was beautiful, but that wasn't what drew his attention.

On her left shoulder, visible under the strap of her black tank top and creeping up along her neck ever so slightly, was a rash.

She was infected. That was why she wasn't nervous about messing with an infected body.

Carla was on death row, just like him.

But what about the others she was with? Were they all sick?

Running over with Jason, Todd – tall man with light brown hair – hurried to her side, gun in hand. "What's wrong?"

"He's alive," Carla deadpanned, blinking rapidly as her wits came back to her, allowing her to rise to her feet. "And infected. His brother left him here," she explained, pulling the note from her jeans and handing it to him.

Todd read the letter, glanced at Brian, and then looked around. "Where were they heading?" he asked suddenly, turning his brown eyes to Brian.

Brian snorted, smirking. "Up your ass and around the corner."

Kneeling in front of him, Todd repeated sternly, unamused, "Where were they heading?"

"Like I'm gonna tell you," he choked on a cough.

Todd sighed, shaking his head at him.

Tyler stepped forward, looking like he was maybe fourteen, if that old. "We just want to help. We can find your brother and –"

"And rob him then kill him?" Brian interrupted sharply. "Nah, forget it. I'm not telling you shit."

"We're not like that," Lucy, the teen girl, insisted, her light blond hair up in a ponytail.

"Yeah, some hazmat guy…" he trailed off, coughing up some blood that dotted his lips. "Said that too while his buddies tried to take my girl from me, and Kate from Danny. One guess why they wanted them."

Lucy blanched, looking at the ground.

Swallowing thickly, tremors taking hold again as his vision blured and his ears rang in time with the throbbing in his head, Brian bit out, "Just kill me and get it over with. That's what you're gonna do, isn't it? Or do you guys get a kick outta tormenting the infected? Met a guy once who liked to do that. Shot… shot him in the… in the head 'fore he could… then shot the sick kid, and... and Danny and I left... gotta get to the beach. Gotta get there."

Carla stepped towards Todd and said quietly, "Listen to him, Todd. He's slipping. Just put him out of his misery."

"He might be like us," he pointed out carefully.

Like them?

"He's not," Carla insisted tightly. "He's not 'chosen', not special, nothing more than a dead man walking."

"Same could've been said about you when we found you, Carla," Todd countered irritably. "We gave you a chance, didn't we?"

"I don't want to watch another person die like that," she whispered brokenly, just loud enough for Brian to also hear. "Not again."

"Then don't watch," Todd replied, mind made up. To Jason, a dark skinned man about his height, he said, "Help me get him to the jeep."

Carla mumbled an oath under her breath but made no further complaint as the two men stepped over to Brian.

When the two men reached for him, Brian jolted right and left, desperate to be away from them but having nowhere to go. "Get away from me," he hissed through the fog of pain in his head as he teetered on the edge of unconsciousness.

"Take it easy man," said Jason, his dark hand a stark contrast to Brian's sickly pale wrist as he grasped it tightly, urging him to hook his arm over his shoulders as Todd did the same on Brian's left. "Just tryin' to help."

"Want to help?" Brian grumbled, groaning as the two helped him to his legs, his left one numb with pain. "Get a bullet."

"I've got one," Carla mumbled, receiving a sharp glare from Todd. With a huff of defeat, she stormed past them to the truck, Lucy not far behind. "Let's just get out of here."

Todd said something to Brian about not taking Carla's attitude personally, but Brian barely registered the exact words as he was half dragged to the jeep and pushed into the back with the blanket he'd had around him moments earlier. He should have fought back, should have tried to run, but he wasn't sure he'd make it half a foot when he could hardly even think coherently.

Brian was at the mercy of these strangers, and it scared him than he cared to admit to even himself.

But even as he fell unconscious, a few things were very clear.

None of these strangers wore protective masks and gloves, and they weren't hesitant to touch him.

Carla was clearly infected, but no one treated her any differently, just like they didn't treat him differently.

And last, they claimed that there was a chance he may be like them.

The question was, what the hell did they mean by _that_?

He opened his mouth to question Jason as he and Tyler got in, but little more than a groan escaped as the world gave way to darkness, unconsciousness taking over at last.

* * *

_**Review please! Reviews let me know you wish for more!**_


	2. Chapter 2

When the disease first struck, Carla assumed it was just some new flu being blown out of proportion, or at most just an isolated sickness. But it spread, and it spread _fast_, faster than anyone could have imagined. By the time she realized that it was more than a flu, it was in her neighborhood. She and her boyfriend barely had enough time to get out before chaos broke out in the area – living on the outskirts of Orlando, Florida during some terrible plague was not the safest place to be, just as it was dangerous being close to L.A, New York, Los Vegas, or any other city.

Her boyfriend, Zach, had wanted to find the smallest town on some back road where they could hide and wait out the virus, but Carla insisted they head to Texas to find her parents and fifteen-year-old sister. She never had the best relationship with her family, considered to be the black sheep of sorts, but she needed to find them, needed to make sure they were okay.

So she and Zack made the long journey to Houston, Texas to find her family, only to discover they were long gone. Now all she had to show for her efforts was a scarred rash on the junction of her shoulder and neck, and Zach was dead.

Idly, her fingers brushed against the scar left behind by the vicious rash.

Immunity was a hell of a thing, a game of chance really. One couldn't find out if they were immune until the virus took hold. If you were immune, you could beat it with some tender love and care from those around you, provided you had a place to rest for a few days and plenty of water. If you weren't immune, well, the virus killed you.

She'd been infected when an infected looter came at her, coughing up blood in her face whilst trying to snatch her find from her. Zach managed to shoot him, but she was already infected, and later he too had become infected. Todd and his little group found them hiding in a gas station, sick as dogs. That was when she learned of the immunity and that Todd, Jason, Tyler, and Lucy were immune, hence why they saw fit to try to help. While she gradually got better, Zach quickly got worse. Now he was dead, and his blood was on her hands.

It was all her fault, and she sure as hell did not want to watch another man die.

"What were we supposed to do?" Todd demanded. "Let him die?"

She threw up her arms, sick of repeating the same conversation whenever she hinted that she disagreed with him about bringing Brian back. "I don't know, shoot him? Spare him the pain of dying from the virus? I don't know, okay, but it was stupid to bring him here. We don't know a damn thing about him."

"We didn't know anything about you either, and you look more like a nut than he does," he countered.

Carla rolled her eyes, mildly insulted.

He was referring to the quarter sleeve tattoo of flowers on her right arm and the various others dotting her body, along with one ear pierced twice and the other three times. The man just had an issue with tattoos, piercings, and anything thing else considered to be a deviant act when it came to women. It was ridiculous.

Worrying on her lower lip as she sat beside her little brother, Lucy asked, "If he lives, why don't we just keep him locked up until we get to know him? I mean, it's going to take him a few days to get back on his feet."

"If he's immune," Tyler pointed out, munching on a bag of stale chips that they'd found before offering Lucy a few. "How long 'til we can tell?"

Todd shrugged. "It's been a few hours already, but there's no telling when he was infected without him telling us. Can't say for sure how he's doing, but last I checked he was still unconscious."

"And that's… good?" Lucy ventured.

Nodding, the man replied, "Better for him to be out cold than awake and puking blood."

"What about that wound on his leg?" Carla questioned. "You said it looked like he was shot. Does that make for a trustworthy guest?"

He arched a brow at her. "We've all been shot at, Carla. We just haven't been hit."

He had her there, and she sighed, looking out the window of the motel room. They'd all been shot at by someone at some point at least once. It was a simple fact of life now – at some point, someone was going to shoot at you.

Flopping down on one of the two beds, Lucy sighed and said, "Guys, we've been talking about the same thing since getting back. Can we not waste time going in circles, please? Let's just wait and see what happens, 'kay?"

Wait and see… that was always nice in theory.

But then, what else were they supposed to do? Todd had made up his mind and he was in charge, much to Carla's occasional dislike.

He was a good man, but he sometimes didn't get the fact that not everyone was like them – immune, decent people. He even had a bad habit of offering gas, food, and water to random people even when they had very little to spare. This new world required a thicker skin and the occasional "shoot first" attitude. For over a month she'd been traveling with them, and more than once his "help all and they'll owe favors" attitude had nearly gotten them into some serious shit.

The world had gone to hell, and they didn't need to resort to ruthless means all the time, but they couldn't go around trying to help every single person they came across.

One of these days he was going to let the wrong person get close to them. She just hoped this new guy, Brian, wasn't the one to condemn them.

As she stared out the window, Jason walked past it a moment before he walked in.

"How is he?" Carla asked, frustrated with the situation but curious, especially when there was still half-an-hour to go before Jason's shift of watching the new guy was over.

After picking up a bottle of water to drink, Jason replied tiredly, "Just came to. He looks like shit, but the fever's not getting any worse and seems to be breaking up, and that rash on his thigh isn't spreading. I changed the dressing on the gunshot wound of his – it was gettin' nasty, but doesn't look infected. That being said, we'll have to watch him like a hawk for the next twenty-four hours."

"When do you think he was infected?" Todd asked.

"I can't say," Jason admitted. "Everyone suffers the same symptoms, but the time-frame is different with just about everyone. You could keel over three days after exposure or two weeks after – all depends on your immune system. I treated couple once when I was working at the hospital not long after this all started. The wife died four days after exposure and the husband died sixteen days into it. Can never tell how long the infection's been in your system."

Carla, chewing on her fingernails, asked quietly, "Do you think he's immune?"

With a sigh, Jason nodded. "I told him he might be and he laughed in my face."

Tyler tossed the empty bag of chips to the floor and commented to Carla, "Guess you were right about his brother not knowing, huh?"

She nodded slightly.

Brian's laughter at such a claim pretty much confirmed it.

Yawning loudly, Jason looked to Todd and said, "Man, I'm dying here. It's your turn."

Toddy shook his head. "I've gotta walk the perimeter."

"The perimeter?" Jason repeated. "We're in the middle of nowhere. Who you think's gonna come around?"

He merely shrugged, glancing at him as he put his coat on. "Don't know, but better safe than sorry."

At that, Carla snorted. "Right. You bring the problem and leave him for us to deal with."

"Todd, someone's gotta stay with him," Jason insisted, sweeping his arm towards the door. "Guy seems immune, but I don't know for sure, and I won't until his fever breaks and goes down."

Grumbling under his breath, Todd looked to Lucy.

Lucy quickly shook her head, too skittish to keep an eye on a stranger.

Todd then looked to Lucy's brother, and a look of alarm formed on Tyler's face and Lucy put her arm around his shoulders in an attempt to keep Todd from snatching him if he decided to.

Carla gaped at Todd and stepped forward, shoving the man when he made a move for Tyler. "You are _not_ sending him in there!"

"Why not?"

"Why not?" she repeated incredulously. "For starters, he's thirteen!"

"Kid's gotta pitch in," Todd argued.

Carla glared at him.

He wouldn't get his hands dirty and helped too many people at their own risk, but he had no problem with making them do what he didn't want to do, even going so far as to make a boy who was just barely a teenager go and watch a man who was potentially dangerous. It was sickening, and she wasn't going to put Tyler in that situation.

Walking to the dresser, the young woman retrieved her dark purple sweater and slipped it on before making her way to the door after checking for the gun tucked under her belt behind her.

"Where are you going?" Todd demanded.

"To babysit your problem," she snapped, slamming the motel door behind her as she stepped into the cool night air.

Taking a deep breath, she rubbed at her tired eyes and made her way four doors down to the room Brian was being kept in. She didn't walk in right away, but rather took a moment to compose herself. Having not slept since her nap during their drive around noon and it now being nearly five in the morning, she was exhausted and that did nothing for her rattled temper. As much as she wished they hadn't picked up Brian, a complete stranger, she didn't want to be unnecessarily harsh just because she was tired.

Allowing a single yawn to pass her lips, she finally opened the door and stepped into the candle-lit room.

Sitting up against the headrest, cushioned by pillows, Brian looked and sounded like he'd been to hell and back. He was sickly pale, a thin sheen of sweat coated his skin, dampening the white sheets around him, and he was coughing so hard she thought he'd cough up a lung.

Knowing all too well how painful that kind of coughing could be, Carla sighed and walked over to the chair beside the bed, picking up a bottle of water that Brian hadn't already drank and unscrewed the lid before handing it to him.

He stared at her briefly with bloodshot blue eyes before taking it from her, mumbling his thanks under his breath before taking a handful of gulps of water.

"How you feeling?" she asked once he finished drinking.

"Like shit," he rasped, setting the water back on the nightstand. "Why'd you bring me here?"

"Didn't Jason tell you?"

"The guy said you all think I might be immune or something." Tearing the sheets from his waist, groaning in mild pain the actual caused, he indicated to the angry rash on his left thigh and demanded, "Does _this _look immune to you?"

Carla shrugged, looking at the rash spider webbing along his thigh before disappearing beneath his boxers. "No, but it doesn't look like it's getting any worse either. That's a good sign that you might be immune to all of this."

"A good sign," he repeated with a dry chuckled, shucking his fingers through his dirty hair. "Wow, haven't heard the rash be called that before."

Chewing on the inside of her cheek, Carla sighed and pulled back the neck of her sweater and strap of her tank top, revealing to him her scarred over rash. "How old would you say this is?"

Moving his eyes from her rash, to her grey eyes, then back to her rash, he licked his dry lips and replied defiantly, "Why do I care? You're infected and you're gonna die, just like me."

"Got it about four months ago," she stated as if he hadn't spoken, brushing her fingers along the forever marred hypersensitive skin. "This crazy infected guy tried to rob me and coughed so hard he spat blood on my face and in my eyes – instant infection. Let me tell you, lying on the floor of some gas station wasn't where I planned to kick the bucket, but my boyfriend and I couldn't very well ride somewhere more comfortable on his motorcycle when neither of us could hardly hold onto a water bottle, seeing that he got sick too. Todd and the others were driving through looking for gas and found us. Todd… he wanted to help us, told us we'd be fine all the way to some abandoned house he and his friends were taking us to, and six days into the infection – about the state you were in when we found you – I started getting better... but Zach didn't. A couple days later, all I had to show from the infection was a slight cough that quickly went away. Rash stayed, though. It kinda turns into a scar on those of us who develop an immunity to the virus." Dropping her hand back to her lap with a sigh, she added, "The others have it too in different places. It's the only sign of immunity that we know of."

Brian owned and shut his mouth a few times before firmly shaking his head. "No. No, word would have spread about it. People would've found out and told the CDC. Hell, the CDC would have been the ones to learn about it!"

"Paranoia breeds violence, Brian," Carla reasoned. "Jason said that one of his buddies in the hospital he worked in turned out to be immune, but people were so scared that he was shot the moment he showed his rash to someone with the claim he wasn't sick. Odds are the same thing happened elsewhere and a lot of people were probably too afraid to tell. But it's true – me and the others are evidence of that. _You _are evidence of that."

He nodded slowly, struggling to take it all in, and then asked, "If you're immune, why'd you want to kill me back there?"

She shrugged. "Guess I'm old fashioned – I don't trust strangers. Todd has a bad habit of trying to help everyone at our expense. Can't tell you how many times we've been robbed and shot at because of him. I'm not saying we need to be ruthless, we just can't be stupid and think everyone's decent and will be happy to repay us for our help."

"Gotta agree with you there," he rasped, coughing. Staring at his rash, realization dawned on him suddenly and his eyes widened. "Bobby! We've have to go get her!"

"Who's Bobby? Whoa, hey, take it easy!" she instructed sharply, pushing him back against the bed when he tried to get up, his feverish skin clammy beneath her hands.

"My girlfriend was infected and I threw her out of the car. I didn't know and I sent her out to die so she wouldn't infect by brother and Kate," he confessed brokenly, fighting against her as a burst of strength from him forced her to press her knees into the bed just to keep him down. "She was at a gas station outside Newel this afternoon – that's where she's heading! We've gotta go get her! She might be immune!"

Carla remembered them driving through Newel earlier in the evening before coming across a few gas stations, and her face fell though her grip on his shoulders remained strong. "We passed through Newel, Brian. It was a ghost town, same with the couple of gas stations we tried. There was no one around, infected or otherwise."

"No," he argued in denial. "I told her to get to Newel and find a bed. I told her to go there and that's where the fuck she went!"

"She wasn't there, Brian!" she shouted right back, grabbing his jaw tightly in her small hand. "Even if she were, you're in no condition to travel and wouldn't be for another few days, you got that? I'm sorry, but you can't."

The man before her ground his teeth, looking from her to the door and back again as he debated over his next move.

Carla's thoughts drifted to the gun tucked between her belt behind her, and she hoped he wouldn't make her use it. She really didn't want to hurt or kill him, but she wasn't going to let him hurt her.

Several tense seconds passed before Brian sighed heavily, coughing, and he fell back against the pillows, staring at the ceiling. "I kissed her," he muttered, scrubbing his hand down his face. "She knew she was infected and didn't tell me. I thought she was just playing hard to get after I left this guy and his sick daughter behind, so I grabbed her and kissed her. Didn't get why she was so upset 'til I saw the rash that night. Cut her lose the following morning before it got too hot out."

A lump formed in her throat, the circumstances for him becoming infected somewhat similar to her own. Who knew a kiss could be the equivalent of a death sentence?

Clicking his tongue a few times, he added firmly, "Moment I'm on my feet I'm going to go look for her. I owe her that much."

"If that's what you want, fine, you won't find me complaining. No offense, but… immune or not, you're a stranger. Strangers can get you killed these days," she explained with a small shrug. "I'd rather you be on your way sooner rather than later."

"You had a warmer disposition when you thought I was dead, you know that?"

A hint of a smile tugged at her lips, and she replied, "The dead can't earn or lose respect, so I give it to them anyways. The rest of us need to earn it, plain and simple. Todd seems to think that just by saving my life he's earned my full respect – he hasn't."

"That swell of a guy, huh?"

"He doesn't do good things out of the kindness of his heart, let's just put it that way. Hence why you should probably beat it sooner rather than later if you get better."

Cocking his head, coughing a bit, he asked, "Why's that?"

"Either you leave before he has a chance to corner you into paying him back for saving your life somehow, you turn him down when he does in which case you'll have an enemy when you leave, or you stay and owe him a favor of some kind – usually something pretty big."

"And what do you owe him?" he questioned, making her face darken.

"Something I sure as hell am not giving him," she replied tightly as she looked to one of the flickering candles. With a heavy sigh, she added, "You should probably try to get some rest. A lot of sleep will help you pull yourself together."

He snorted, tossing his head back with a mild thump as it hit the headboard, making him wince slightly. "You expect me to sleep with the jackhammer going off in my head?"

Picking up the small backpack that served as the first-aid kit belonging to Jason that lay next to the nightstand, Carla rooted through it for a moment until she found bottle of aspirin. She set it down on the nightstand then said, "That should help some, just don't go crazy. We don't have much in the way of pills."

He picked up the bottle, turning it over in his hand a few times before unscrewing the top. "Thanks," he said, taking two pills.

She merely shrugged in reply.

Reclining in her chair, propping her feet up on the side of the bed, she yawned, wishing she could move the gun behind her somewhere else so she'd be more comfortable but unwilling to let him see it at the moment. In an effort to get more comfortable, she nudged his leg in hopes he'd take the hint and move a little, but when he didn't she sighed and scooted her chair back some so that she'd have more room for her feet.

Arching a brow, he asked dryly after taking a drink, "I'm not in your way, am I?"

"Brian, I've gotta stay in here for over three hours, and I'm exhausted," she replied tiredly. "But just so you know, trying anything and I'll scream."

"Dually noted," he replied, clearly not thrilled about having company while he slept. Or it might have been because she was making him seem like an inconvenience. Either way, he didn't appear pleased that she was staying put with her feet on the bed.

Carla didn't rightly care what his feelings were about it. If he thought she was going to remain wide awake for even half-an-hour more he was nuts. She needed some serious sleep or she'd be a nightmare to deal with later in the day.

So, with one last yawn, she shut her eyes, though her ears remained honed on the man in the bed. She was a light sleep, something she was counting on. She just hoped he didn't get any bright ideas and force her to use her gun.

* * *

_**Review, please! Reviews let me know that you wish for more!**_


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **_**I'm happy you all are enjoying this so far, though I swear to God I am having bad luck in the "updating" department. I just seem to be catching writer's block with all my fics lately.**_

_**Also, just as a reminder, this is eventually going to be **__**Brian/OC**__**. I have no problem with Bobby, not really, but no. It's Brian/OC, so please, don't get your hopes up if you're looking for a Brian/Bobby fic.**_

* * *

Immune.

That was the last word Brian ever thought could be used to describe himself these days. Yet here he was around noon the following day, alive and kicking, and doing noticeably better.

He still felt like shit, still had a slight fever, but he wasn't quite as weak as he had been early on and some color had chased away the sickly pale tone his skin had gone.

By yesterday evening when his fever started going down it was pretty hard to deny that he was immune, and now it was just outright impossible to believe otherwise. Jason, the medic of the group, asked earlier that morning if he'd ever noticed that he could come into close contact with the infected without showing any sign of infection, and Brian told him of how he'd dug graves at the super dome and while the other workers had to be cycled through regularly over the days due to them keeling over with sickness, he never got sick, and it took him giving his sick girlfriend a kiss before he caught it.

Jason then told him that all of them and others like them that they knew of had a uniquely high tolerance to the infection. Simply breathing the same air or touching wasn't enough. For people like them, the medic gathered, either infected saliva or blood had to get into the mouth, eyes, or an open wound for them to become infected.

In the back of Brian's mind, it all made sense in a way.

What else could atone to the fact that he hadn't gotten sick until kissing Bobby when he'd been around so many others? Had sometimes been less careful than everyone else?

Sitting up with his legs swung over the side of the bed, he coughed roughly, wanting to walk around a bit. After spending so much time cooped up in the damn motel room with either Jason or Carla to keep him company, he needed to get outside or he'd go nuts inside the hour.

His muscles ached from lack of use for more than a day, but he figured that either he stretched them out now or risked it hurting even more later, though his muscles screamed that they were willing to take that risk as he pulled himself to his feet.

Bracing his hand against the nightstand, he wobbled slightly as a wave of dizziness washed over him before dissipating just as quickly as it had appeared. It felt like he was getting over the flu from hell, something he used to call this bug he caught when he was twelve. Getting over the infection made that bug seem like little more than an annoying tickle in the back of his throat. _This _was so much more draining and painful.

At least the jackhammer in his skull had turned to something more tolerable. He had the aspirin to thank for that, nearly taking it around the clock. Carla hadn't been thrilled to hear that he was regularly taking two pills for his head, but since they belonged to Jason and he was cool with it, it didn't really matter if she was happy about it or not.

Brian still couldn't figure the woman out. One minute she was friendly and the next she was aloof with a chilly disposition. She would hold a friendly conversation that had to do with the virus or places where he could go once he was back on his feet to find supplies, but the moment he uttered a word or question about who she'd been before all hell broke loose or simply bringing up anything that had to do with her personally, she would clam up and turn bitter on him. Once that happened he'd be hard pressed to get a decent word out of her that lacked bite.

Something had that woman's panties in a bunch, had her reluctant to talk too much about herself, but he hadn't a clue what. Truthfully, he didn't plan to stay long enough to find out, not when he needed to find Bobby.

Immune or not, Brian still felt the sharp string of betrayal straight to his heart whenever he thought about Bobby for even just a second. The day they all piled into his car after they decided to leave for the beach, both he and Bobby mad a deal that they swore they would each follow through with should the need arise – if one of them became infected or even thought that they were infected, they spoke up immediately so as not to put the other at risk, and then they would leave to ensure the survival of the other. It was the most serious he'd ever been around her, and though she'd rolled her eyes with a deflecting smirk as she agree to the pact, he thought she understood that he hadn't been joking and wasn't being dramatic – he had been dead serious.

Clearly, she mustn't have thought he had been, or that he wouldn't be able to follow through. He honestly believed that anger played a strong role in him being able to drag her out of the car and leave her on the side of the road. She had hidden the fact that she'd been infected by that little girl. She had shied away from him, making him think she was only mad that he'd forced them to abandon Frank and the girl. She led him to believe that her reaction to him kissing her was because she didn't want to get dirty, and he'd believed her because she wasn't the kind of girl to have sex on the ground without a blanket beneath her. She knew what she did to him, and still she said nothing. It took a pervert in a hazmat suit ordering her to strip down just for her to reveal the truth.

A part of him hated her for that, for knowingly allowing him to risk his brother's life while the virus incubated in his body before taking the form of a rash on his left thigh. If she had told him the truth from the get-go, he'd still be looking out for Danny and Kate. But if she had spoken up, she'd have been left behind sooner than when she had been. That had to have been Bobby's reason for remaining silent – she didn't want to find out if Brian would actually leave her behind to die alone. She'd been in denial, even after they'd seen the rash where she claimed desperately that they were only bruises when it was obvious that they were anything but bruises.

Brian still cared about Bobby, but if she was alive and he found her he wasn't sure he'd ever be able to trust her again or if they'd ever have the relationship they used to. As it was their relationship had been dysfunctional. They were always breaking up and getting back together, always arguing about the topic of kids, and more than once she'd called him out on never saying "I love you" to her. He had loved her, but saying it was his problem. If he had one regret it was not telling her that, but even if she was still alive and he found a way to tell her that he loved her, he wasn't sure he'd be able to say it and mean it after all that's happened in the past few days.

Either way, he had to find her. His personal grievances aside, he'd known her for too long and had been through too much with her to just let her sit all alone if there was a chance she was immune.

Taking a moment to get a hold of himself, still a little ways off before he'd be well enough to travel, Brian picked up his water bottle and took a long gulp before turning his eyes to the boxers, jeans, and blue t-shirt that had seen better days set out on an ugly blue chair. Whose they were didn't really matter much to him so long as they fit and their original owner didn't want them back, though the boxers gave him pause. Wearing some other guy's shorts wasn't what he went looking to do, but all the clothes looked genuinely clean, maybe even freshly washed, so he figured he could grit his teeth and bare it.

It was definitely the longest he ever took to change, but eventually he was dressed and finishing with the laces of his boots. Straightening, lowering his booted foot from the chair and careful not to lose his balance, he retrieved his water and stepped outside for some fresh air.

The temperature was climbing steadily, growing uncomfortably hot, but that didn't stop the small group from getting to work on things that needed to be done.

Todd – whom he'd only spoken a few words to – was with Jason under the hood of the old grey truck, a box of tools at their feet. Further away in some shade was Carla and a young boy, busily working on a black motorcycle.

The motorcycle reminded him of the one he'd had to leave behind in trade for the car he, Danny, and Bobby were going to use to get to the beach, and he'd be lying if he said he wasn't itching for a peak at Carla's bike.

But just as he took a step towards them, a petite blond girl stepped in front of him, a nervous smile on her face.

"Hi," she greeted cheerily.

"Uh, hey."

"Oh, I'm Lucy," she amended, realizing that they hadn't been introduced. Shifting the pile of sandwiches in her hands, she held one out to him. "I was just givin' everyone lunch. It's not much, just a little peanut butter and chips between some stale bread, but it's not that bad. Well, it kinda is but I just pretend it's not."

The girl spoke about a mile a minute, and since she hadn't talked that fast the night they'd come across him, Brian was inclined to believe that nerves were making her a speed talker.

Deciding not to pick on her about it or tell her to grow a backbone, he simply took the sandwich and peeled back a slice of bread. Looking back at her with a cocked brow, he asked, "Doritos on a sandwich?"

She shrugged, tucking her light blond hair behind her ear. "Kinda makes it feel like you're eating more than you are, you know? Tyler says the bigger the sandwich looks the bigger the meal seems, and we don't have that much food to go around so chips at least give the impression of a stuffed sandwich." Pointing to the boy over by Carla, she added, "That's my brother, Tyler."

His first guess wouldn't have been that they were siblings, but it actually made sense that they were related. Jason said that the immunity was possibly genetic, and the notion of Todd coming across a brother and sister seemed a lot more plausible than finding two random teens at separate times, especially when the boy looked like he'd just hit his teen years. Kids and young teens didn't last long on their own when the world was normal – now, they wouldn't have a snowball's chance in hell of making it alone. Siblings stood a better chance out in the world, something he knew well.

Then again, who was to say that they'd been alone from the start?

"You're parents – are they…?"

Lucy shook her head adamantly. "No, they're in Hawaii for their anniversary."

He blinked then licked his lips. "So, you don't know if they're actually alive or not."

"No, no, they are alive," she insisted, voice rising is pitch. "Tyler and me are immune so they have to be to. It's genetic, Jason said so! Our parents are alive, and once the CDC solves this thing we'll all go home."

Brian was beginning to think the sun had fried the girl's brain, because everyone knew that the CDC was on its last legs if it still existed at all. As for the genetic bit, Jason said that he thought it _might_ be genetic, but that the immunity could skip a generation or two. There was no guarantee that the kids' parents were immune or even alive.

"The clothes okay?" she asked suddenly. "The shirt and jeans were Todd's, and you guys look the same size so I figured they'd work. The boxers are new though – we raided a mall the other week and crammed as many clothes as we could into the jeep. I found this really nice dress that I'm going to wear somewhere once everything's back to normal. It's this fuchsia color with –"

"I'm gonna go see if Carla and your brother need a hand with that bike," Brian interrupted quickly, unsure of how much longer he could listen to the girl without squashing her hopes with a reality check – she wouldn't be wearing any dress anytime soon, nor were her parents likely alive, and things sure as hell wouldn't be normal again. "It'll take them their sandwiches – hand 'em over."

More than a little disappointed, Lucy mumbled an "okay" under her breath and gave him two sandwiches.

Only once his back was to her as he began limping towards the two working on the motorcycle did he roll his eyes. That girl needed to get her head on straight if she was going to continue living.

How had she made it this far with that way of thinking?

Taking a bite of the makeshift sandwich, blanching at the uniquely horrible flavor of stale Doritos, stale bread, and hot peanut butter, he found himself wondering how any of them had made it so far on food like _this_.

The plague didn't exactly bring forth great food, but Brian had always made an effort to find things that were edible whenever they went in search of anything to eat. Canned food was always at the top of the list along with the occasional bag of jerky, but everything else they tried to eat within the first week of finding it, such as bread, chips, fruit, vegetables, and anything else that would spoil. With a little extra effort put into scavenging, surviving could be made just a bit more tolerable.

In short, stale Doritos and peanut butter sandwiches would not have ever been on his list of meals.

"I come baring lunch," Brian declared once he reached the two, spitting out his second mouthful of food, preferring to be hungry if this was on the menu. "And probably food poisoning."

Carla looked up from her work, frowning. "Huh?"

"Lucy made everyone lunch – kinda."

Wiping his greasy hands on his torn jeans, Tyler stood and took one of the sandwiches only to frown in disappointment when he saw what it was made of. "She's doing it again, Carla."

The young woman sighed as she sat up, bracing her forearm on her knee. Squinting in the sunlight, she asked, "What is it this time?"

"Stale Doritos and melted peanut butter between stale bread – oh, and the bread's complete with mold," Brian announced with a faux smile, showing the spot of mold to the kid who pulled a face and tossed the sandwich aside. "Hope your sister wasn't planning to become a chef."

Carla sighed and said to Tyler, "Go grab her before she gives one to Todd. And you," she started, looking to Brian. After a second, she nodded to her left where an open can of peaches lay beside her. "Help yourself."

Discarding his sandwich, he eased himself to the ground beside Carla and picked up the can of peaches, and was delighted to find that they actually tasted fairly good.

"How you feeling?" Carla asked, getting back to work on the motorcycle with the wrench in her hand.

"Like run over shit, but I'll live," he snorted, around a mouthful of peaches. "What's up with that girl, anyways? What, the sun fry her brain or something?"

She wiped the back of her hand over her sweaty forehead and replied, "Everyone handles the plague differently, and Lucy's got a habit of denying that things are as bad as they are. Tyler's pretty much figured that their parents are probably dead and has moved on, but Luce just doesn't want to believe that things really have changed that much. She's essentially become our washing machine and cook – seems to think the women should do things like that still and let the men handle the 'real work', and Todd is thrilled to let her do it most of the time 'cause he's the kind of guy who thinks a woman belongs in the kitchen." Hissing sharply and yanking her hand away from the bike after nicking her finger, a drop of blood welling up from the small cut, she added, "Tyler's the real reason they're alive. If he hadn't snuck out at night while they were both sick to get food and board up the house they might not have made it before we found them. Immune or not, they would've died without some kind of medical help, which Jason provided."

"Lucky break," Brian commented, sucking the juice from his thumb. Watching her as she tried to make some repairs on the motorcycle, he finally sighed and set the peaches down. "Give me that thing before you make things worse," he instructed, grabbing for the wrench which she held tight.

Glaring at him, she snapped, "I barely know you, buddy. You are _not _touching the motorcycle."

"Fine, you want to break it? Be my guest, just don't come crying to me when you end up with little more than a paper weight." With that, he released the wrench and waited, hesitating with a peach between his fingers momentarily as he coughed roughly before eating the piece of fruit.

Carla glared at him with icy blue eyes as she ground her teeth before looking back to her motorcycle, stubbornly ignoring him and getting back to work.

She made to unscrew a bolt, and he slowly leaned in, the movement going unnoticed, and just as she was about to make contact with the wrench, he whispered directly in her ear in a sing-song voice, "I wouldn't do that."

The young woman jumped, startled and clanking her wrench against the metal frame.

"Just give me the damn thing," Brian urged, chuckling hoarsely.

Wearing a look of loathing, she shoved the wrench into his chest with a huff, making him grunt in mild discomfort as he rubbed at the spot.

Getting to work on fixing a few of the mechanisms he suspected were giving the bike trouble, he lapsed back into the comfortable familiarity that came with working on motorcycles or cars.

"Seem like you know what you're doing," Carla grudgingly complimented.

"Worked at this garage with my uncle most my life. Picked up a few tricks of the trade," he explained, tightening things here and loosening things there. "You obviously don't know jack about motorcycles – how'd you end up with one like this?"

He had no doubt that Carla would look hot as hell riding the Suzuki V-Strom, but it was hardly the motorcycle for a novice.

She sighed solemnly, keeping her eyes on the motorcycle. "It was my boyfriend's. He worked his ass off to afford it."

Brian paused in his work, glancing her way.

She had mentioned early on that while she got better after getting infected, her boyfriend – Zach, if he remembered right – got worse. He guessed that the guy had died, given that bit of info and the fact that the motorcycle was with her while the boyfriend wasn't.

Recalling what he'd overheard the night he was found, Brian commented as he got back to work, "Doesn't sound like your buddy Todd wants you to keep it."

She snorted. "He's pissed 'cause I won't hand over the keys for it, and because I don't know how to ride it he sees it as a waste of space."

"Can't say I blame him for wanting it. Kinda reminds me of the one I had to leave behind, but mine was a different model. Older, too."

"Don't get any ideas," she warned tightly, her expression suddenly wary.

"You always this prickly?" he asked. "Was just trying to make conversation, that's all."

Carla had the decency to look a bit guilty, but she didn't apologize for her attitude. Not because she was too proud to apologize, but because they were no longer alone.

Approaching with Jason by his side, was Todd.

Though Brian acted indifferent to the guy's presence, his attention seemingly on the motorcycle, he kept Todd in his sights. He'd only spoke to Todd for a few minutes since being found, and from what he'd observed he didn't like the guy all that much. Something about him rubbed him the wrong way, and he liked to think his gut was good at judging people.

Carla was prickly with some issues that she kept to herself, but she seemed like a genuinely decent woman.

Jason was a good guy, no question.

Adam, from what he could tell, was a tough kid who had taken care of his sister.

Lucy was a nut.

But Todd? Brian didn't like him, and he barely knew him. From what he was told, the guy rarely had good intentions.

"Feeling better, Brian?" Todd asked, seemingly friendly enough.

Brian had been fed enough bullshit in his life to know when someone didn't give a damn about the answer to a question like that. But he had an idea of an answer that might irk the man.

"Yeah," he drawled, setting down the wrench. "Was just havin' a nice chat with Carla while I fixed her bike. Might even go out for a ride later on with her. Don't wait up, 'kay?"

The muscles in Todd's jaw twitched in irritation and he snapped his eyes to Carla for clarification.

Rolling her eyes, the young woman merely kept her mouth shut, though a smirk tugged at her lips.

Brian in turn smiled.

So, irritating Todd was a way to get on her good side. He'd keep that in mind.

"I doubt that," Todd muttered. "Last I checked, it wasn't running too well."

"Show's how much you know, genius," Brian countered, gingerly rising to his feet with Carla's help of holding his arm to provide extra stability. To Carla, he asked, "Hand me the key, will you?"

She hesitated, but curiosity won out and she pulled the key ring from her pocket and handed it to him.

Smiling cheekily at Todd, he slipped the key into the ignition, turned it, and grinned as the motorcycle roared to life.

A grin found its way to Carla's face, the first real smile he'd seen from her, and she asked excitedly, "How the hell did you fix it? It's been sounding like a lawn mower for weeks, and that's about as long as I've been trying to fix it!"

"You a mechanic?"

"No."

"There's your answer." He figured he'd spare her the knowledge that even a competent armature could have figured it out. She obviously wasn't machine savvy.

His attention roused, Todd asked, "You're a mechanic?"

"I was," he confirmed, shutting off the engine and handing the key-chain back to it's owner.

Nodding his head toward the old truck, he asked, "Think you could take a look at that? Haven't been able to get it working."

"Only if I can use it to find my girlfriend," Brian replied seriously.

Better to bring it up now rather than wait.

"Well, here's the thing, Brian," Todd started with a sigh, stepping closer. "Fuel is hard to come by, and we really can't afford to waste the truck's battery on a wild goose chase."

He snorted. "Here I was thinkin' you were Mr. Do-Good. Way I hear it, you're pretty animate of screwing over these guys to help others." Adjusting his leg that had been shot, holding onto the motorcycle for balance, he added dryly, "But then, I'm guessing you don't help out we chosen people for free, huh?"

Todd frowned and looked at Carla, but she only looked away, refusing to admit that she'd told Brian that he'd be looking for some kind of payment for his help.

With his composure wearing thin so quickly, Todd took a threatening step toward Carla and said tightly, "I really hope you aren't spreading rumors, Carly."

Grinding her teeth, obviously detesting the nickname, she turned her eyes up to him and replied coolly, "Just told him you'd be looking for his… help in some way."

His lips curled upward in a disbelieving smile. "Of course you did." To Brian, he said, "Unfortunately, we don't exactly have the resources to spare to go off and look for… what's her name, Bobby? All of us going... it would deplete our already dwindling resources further. But I'll tell you what – we're heading down to a car dealership to see if they've got any parts we might need and fuel, so if you come and help us fix up the cars, maybe find a way to pay us back for all that aspirin you used up, I'll go with you myself to find her in a week or two."

A week or two? Was he serious?

On the same wavelength, Carla shoved her hands into her jean pockets and pointed out, "A week is a lot to ask for, Todd. I mean, if she's immune she would need assistance as soon as possible, medical care of even the most minimal kind."

"It's the best we can do," he said, blatantly ignoring her.

Brian nodded slowly as if considering the proposal, when all he wanted to do was strangle the man for even thinking that he'd wait so long to go looking for Bobby.

"Nah," Brian decided with a shrug, coughing a bit. "No can do."

Todd glared at him. "We saved your life, Brian. We gave you food, medicine, and a place to sleep. You owe us."

"Hey, I told you to kill me, man. Even Carla told you to kill me. You didn't listen, and that's on you, pal," he argued, smirking. "I don't owe you shit."

"Todd," Jason started. "I gave him the pills 'cause he needed them, man. We've got enough to –"

"To what?" Todd demanded, rounding on his friend. "To waste?"

"To _spare_. If we didn't, I wouldn't have let him have the bottle, just a few pills if we were that low."

"I decide what is enough to spare, not you." Turing his attention back to Brian, he asked, "You're telling me that you're not gonna lend us a hand or anything?"

"Yep, unless you wanna give me a lift to Newell to go find Bobby right now."

"That's not happening."

"Then I'm not helping you with shit."

Grinding his teeth angrily, Todd paced back and forth, thinking, and Brian tried his best not to cough or hunch over with his head in his hands. He felt like shit, he truly did, and his headache was coming back in force, but he wasn't giving this guy the satisfaction of seeing him so ill.

Sensing that things were going downhill quick, Carla suggested, "Look, Brian fixed the motorcycle – great. But he's in no condition to commit to serious work on that truck in this heat right now, much less go off alone." She waited a beat, and then added, "Let's just take another day or two to figure things out rationally without testosterone and sickness playing a key factor, okay? Please?"

Brian half listened to her, understanding that he was still in no condition to go anywhere, but too damn pissed and prideful to admit it. A day was too long as far as he was concerned, but he wasn't stupid, nor was he overly patient. "Two days, then I'm gone," he announced tightly.

Carla opened her mouth to speak, as did Todd, but Brian wasn't hearing it and started off back to the motel room to get out of the heat and cool his head.

* * *

_**Review, please! Reviews let me know that you wish for more!**_


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: **_**A buddy of mine pointed out a kink in the names of my OCs and characters from the film… Adam, Brian, Carla, Danny = ABCD. I definitely did not intend to do that and it sounds downright silly. To at least make it a little better, I have changed the name of the boy in this fic from Adam to Tyler. If you've stuck with this fic since the beginning, you'll notice the change, but if you're just tuning in it won't make a difference because I went back and changed his name in the other chapters too.  
**_

* * *

If there was one thing Carla took for granted before the infection hit, it was running water.

Sitting with a bottle of collected rain water and a cloth to wash with wasn't exactly her idea of a good time, and she longed for a hot bath with shampoo and plenty of bubbles. She was never a girly girl, but bubble baths had been a guilty pleasure of hers.

Dampening the towel, she ran it up and down her arms in the hotel room she'd claimed, staring out the gap in the curtains at her motorcycle made visible by the moonlight.

She could hardly believe that Brian had gotten it working again, and she longed to ride it, though she really didn't have a clue how. That was always Zach's area of expertise, art being more her thing. Regardless, of whatever wariness she felt towards him, she had to admit that by fixing the bike he'd gotten on her good side just a bit.

A knock on her door startled her, and she set the towel down on the nightstand before tossing her black t-shirt back on. She rose to her feet and went to the door, looking out the peep hole before sighing and opening it to let Tyler in.

It wasn't uncommon for the boy to come see her at various hours of the day and night, just as it wasn't uncommon for him to sometimes claim the couch, floor, bed, or spare sleeping bag in whatever room or corner she was staying in. He was the equivalent of a brother to her and was actually closer to her than her own siblings had been. She suspected the same could be said on his part given his aloof relationship with his older sister, but she didn't know for sure and wasn't going to ask either about it.

Taking notice of the grocery bag in his hands, she asked, "What's in the bag?"

He smirked, reaching in and tossing her a half-eaten bag of jerky.

Carla stared at it, her mouth watering, but she then frowned at Tyler. "Todd's going to have your ass if he catches you raiding his stash one of these days."

"All his food was sitting out in the open. Anyone could've taken some of it," Tyler argued, helping himself to the bag of goodies he'd collected. He took at a beer and made to open it, but Carla snatched it away. "Come on!"

"The last thing we need is a drunk rug rat," she replied curtly, opening the warm beer and helping herself to a long drink. Warm or cold, beer was beer these days. "What's Luce up to?"

"Todd wanted her to clean some of his shirts," Tyler said as Carla handed him a piece of jerky

The young woman scowled, shaking her head. "We ask for a little more water to drink because it's hot, and he throws a fit. He wants his shirts squeaky clean, and suddenly it's okay to waste what we have."

Tyler slowly chewed at the jerky, fiddling with whatever else was in the bag. He wanted to talk about something, that much was obvious. Carla just had to be patient until he spat it out.

She didn't have to wait long.

"Carla," Tyler started quietly. "When are we gonna leave?"

Of all the topics, that wasn't one she liked discussing because she wasn't entirely sure of the answer.

"I don't know," she sighed. "Soon."

Tyler huffed and sat on the floor, leaning back against the bed. "That's what you said last month."

She looked at him, feeling acutely guilty for letting the boy overhear shortly after they were found two months ago that she wasn't going to be staying with the group permanently. With Todd hounding her and being downright dangerous with the wellbeing of the group she just felt that she stood a better chance if she struck out on her own. When Tyler heard what she was planning, she'd been angry and was mumbling, not aware that he was in the room. Having grown attached to her, he begged that she take him and Lucy with her, and that was where the problem was.

Only two could fit on her motorcycle, of which she didn't know how to operate, and neither Tyler or Lucy could drive. Until she scavenged enough supplies and managed to get ahold of a reliable truck to put her motorcycle on, they couldn't leave, no matter how much they wanted to. They'd found a few supplies here and there that they would need, but there was only so much she and the kids could stuff in their backpacks without making Todd suspicious.

What they needed was a chance to grab as much as they could without him looking over their shoulder and an immediate exit strategy such as a truck ready and waiting for them. Unfortunately, sneaking away wasn't an option. She was a good shot and could throw a mean right hook, but a young woman traveling with two kids who were barely teenagers was a downright foolish idea. They needed a solid plan, something she'd only partially figured up.

Threading her fingers through her dark hair, she released a long breath and walked over to the kid. She kneeled in front of him, bracing one arm on her knee, and said sincerely, "I promise, we're not going to stay here too much longer. There's a few car dealerships around, and with any luck the first one we go to will have something the three of us can use. All we'll have to do after that is find some food, water, this, and that. Just be a little patient, 'kay?"

He stared at her for a moment before nodding reluctantly. "Yeah, sure."

She gave him a half smile and messed up his shaggy hair, smiling wider when he scowled and ducked out of the way. Rising to her feet, she went to the window to peek out at her motorcycle when something caught her eye.

"Hey, Tyler?"

"Yeah?"

Eyes on the truck, she asked, "Did you go in the truck at all?"

"No," he said, shaking his head. "Why?"

"The door's wide open," she replied tightly and darted for the candles in the room, blowing them out. Retrieving her gun from the dresser, she checked to make sure it was loaded the approached the door, whispering over her shoulder, "Stay here and keep your head down. You hear me scream, you run for it, just like we practiced. Got it?"

Swallowing, fear slipping into his expression, he nodded.

Carla really didn't want to leave him along, but for all she knew some loner was looking to steal from them, or it was Jason playing a prank on her. Hell, for all she knew Brian was trying to make off with the truck on her motorcycle to go find that girl Bobby he'd talked about. Until she knew for sure, she couldn't say with any certainty if they were safe. If they were in trouble, she'd scream at the top of her lungs to alert the others before either giving into her fight or flee reflexes depending on the situation.

Flexing her fingers nervously over the gun, she reached for the door knob.

"Wait!" Tyler hissed, making her jump.

She turned towards him as he reached for her black zip-up jacket and tossed it to her so that she could hide the scarred rash.

She cursed herself for not remembering the thing, her rash being the most visible of the group. If there was couple of strangers wandering around out there, or even just one guy, they would undoubtedly react badly to her rash. Most people had a shoot first ask questions later policy when it came to dealing with anyone they perceived to be infected. Even if she was given a chance to explain she was immune, they likely wouldn't believe her – if the roles were reversed, she sure as hell wouldn't believe a story like immunity.

Setting the gun down long enough to put on the jacket, she zipped it up all the way and made sure the hood was bunched around her neck to hide the rash. Tyler gave her a thumbs up and she nodded, picking up her gun yet again.

This time when she reached for the door knob, Tyler didn't stop her and she slowly and quietly slipped outside.

It was cool now that the sun had gone down, the blistering heat giving way to much more pleasant temperatures, but the shiver that went up her spine was not pleasant. The moon provided enough light for her to see where she was going, it being full, but it was hardly bright enough for her to be comfortable. Every shadow or dark outline looked like someone hiding, someone moving even though she knew it was just her mind playing tricks on her.

"Come on, get a grip," she muttered to herself, nervously making her way over to the truck and tightening her hold on the gun.

The thought that she should go get Todd or Jason crossed her mind but she kept going, Jason being too far away, and she didn't trust Todd enough to handle the situation, so she settled on dealing with it herself until she knew for sure if there was trouble.

Reaching the truck, she took a quick glance at her bike and saw that it was still in one piece. That much was a relief. She then turned her attention to the cab and the open door. It didn't look like it had been forced open, and the keys were sitting on the seat.

Frowning, she picked them up and stuffed them in her pocket.

"Lose something?"

Carla nearly jumped clean out of her skin, spinning so fast that she nearly lost her balance as she leveled her gun at culprit.

Grinning in utter amusement, Brian asked wryly, "Little jumpy tonight, huh?"

"God damn it, Brian!" she snapped angrily, tucking her gun into the back of her jeans. "I could've fucking shot you!"

He just laughed, moving out of the way when she made to slap him. The guy was seriously asking her to shoot him, he was such a pain.

Glaring at him, Carla tugged her small flashlight from her pocket and flicked it on twice in the direction of her room, signaling to Tyler that they were safe.

A moment later, the dim light of a match being struck was made visible as the kid started lighting the candles inside so he wouldn't be in the dark anymore.

"What's that all about?" Brian asked on a cough, lowering a bag to the ground next to the truck.

"I saw the truck door open and thought someone was trying to steal it or something," she replied. "Doesn't look like I was far off from the truth. What're you doing out here?"

He shrugged nonchalantly, leaning heavily back against the truck. "Enjoying the fresh desert air."

He sounded better than he did earlier, his coughing not so rough, but he still sounded terrible and she was willing to bet that he was still running a fever. Where he should be was inside resting, not wandering around trying to give her a heart attack and doing what appeared to be grand theft auto.

"You're going after her, aren't you?" she guessed, frowning.

Brian said nothing at first, but the easy going attitude he'd started out with faded with a long sigh. "You guys said she wouldn't last long without help even if she is immune. I'm not gonna sit on my ass while she's hold up suffering somewhere."

How he phrased it made sense, but they couldn't afford to lose the truck.

"I get it, I do, but think about it – you might be immune and feeling better, but you're hardly up to driving, let alone searching for what could be a days," she reasoned. "If you just wait like you told Todd you would –"

"Bobby might die if I wait!" he interrupted, nearly shouting as he pushed off the truck. "I owe it to her to go after her."

Carla fell silent, torn between letting him go and shouting out for Todd and the others.

It sounded like Brian and Bobby had been incredibly close, though she had to wonder if they would still be so close if the woman was found alive and immune. As he said, she knew she was infected and kept it to herself even after Brian kissed her, and later when he saw the rash he made her hit the road. That was bound to create some tension in the relationship.

Even so, that truck, no matter how close to being little more than scrap, was vital to their survival. They needed the extra room to carrying their supplies and couldn't afford to lose it. Brian could promise to bring it back, could promise to leave it somewhere for them to pick up, but she wouldn't believe him since she hadn't known him for very long at all. Not to mention Todd would have her neck if he found out she'd let him go.

"I'm going with or without your permission," he pointed out seriously. "That's why snatched the keys and was leaving in the middle of the night – knew you and your team leader would try to stop me."

She took a step closer, looking him in the eyes, and said, "I'm serious, Brian, you do not want Todd as an enemy. The guy… well, he's just not right, okay? And you are in no condition to travel."

"You sound like a broken record," he muttered. "I'm fully capable of driving. Shit, most of the time I'm drunk and can still drive circles around my brother."

"Only 'cause you're too drunk to drive in a straight line."

He snorted, smirking slightly. "Well, hell, she does have a sense of humor after all."

Fighting it with all her might, a slight smile tugged at Carla's lips regardless. As big of a pain as he was, he was amusing.

If only by a little, the mood was lightened and the tension lessoned.

She unzipped her jacket a few inches and adjusted the hood so she wouldn't feel quite so strangled whilst moving to lean back against the truck beside Brian, her leg bent back with her foot against the tire.

"I'm not letting you take my motorcycle," she pointed out, crossing her arms. "Taking it off the truck will make too much noise and alert everybody, and if you opt to just take it with you I swear I'll shoot you in your kneecap."

"Ouch, kneecap, huh?"

She shrugged. "Can't say I'll hit the target. I've been told I miss occasionally – might aim a little higher than necessary."

"You wouldn't," Brian countered, still smiling at her.

"Oh, I would. Hell, I might miss your knee on purpose just to bring you down a notch and make people call you Briana instead," she insisted, throwing him a wry smile.

He shook his head at her, grinning at their banter. Looking up at the night sky for a moment, he then breathed out a long sigh, a look of utter seriousness dimming his smile. "What if I took the bike with you in the truck?"

She blinked. "What do you mean?"

"I don't want you buds to know I'm heading out, and I sure as hell don't want to be shot in the nuts, so why not tag along?" he suggested. "You do the driving since you're so prone to me not being up to it, and once I find Bobby, dead or alive, you take the truck and head back to your little group of misfits."

"You cannot be serious," she said on a disbelieving laugh.

"As a heart attack." Turning to face her, hands stuffed in his pockets, he continued, "C'mon, you hate the guy. Wouldn't it be worth it to turn rabbit for a few days just to get away from him?"

"And leave Tyler and Lucy behind?" she demanded, extending her hand towards her room where the boy still was. "I can't do that to them."

He rolled his eyes. "It's not like we're running off together. You'll be back as soon as I find Bobby."

"What if you don't? What if she's not in Newel at all?"

Brian looked away for a second, thinking, and then replied with a sigh, "If she's not in Newel, you still get the truck and your bike. I'll keep looking for her by myself."

She crossed her arms. "You think that's smart? Wandering around searching by yourself? Forget not being one-hundred percent – it's stupid to do anything alone these days."

"That's my problem," he replied. "So, are you tagging along or what, 'cause I'd like to head out sooner rather than later."

To say no and walk away would be the obvious response.

She barely knew Brian, and for all she knew Bobby didn't exist and this was some ploy by a pervert to drag her away from the group. Not to mention that leaving Tyler and Lucy was the last thing she wanted to do. Todd wasn't exactly the best person to keep an eye on them even though Jason would be around.

But wasn't this the opportunity she'd been looking for in order to get away from Todd?

To get away from Todd, she'd figured that she would need to find a truck to put her motorcycle on since the current truck was on its last legs. The truck was out of the question as none of the ones around Newel that she'd seen were in terrible condition. There had, however, been plenty of opportunities to scavenge that Todd hadn't let them take. And now that she thought about, it was quite possible that Bobby was in fact in Newel because there were a few places that they just refused to search for their own safety.

Stuffing her hands in her pockets, she stepped away from the truck a few paces then sighed and turned to face him. "Back in Newel, we didn't look around everywhere. There were certain places we avoided, and it's possible that Bobby was hiding in those places."

"Where?" he demanded, approaching her with a limp, eager to have a lead on where in Newel to start looking.

She took a quick step back, shaking her head slowly. "Hold up, that's not how this is going to work. If I'm going to help you out, you need to help me with something. A favor for a favor, otherwise I start screaming. I bet that would put a kink in your plans."

Brian ground his teeth, the delay in just leaving frustrating him to no end, and he turned back to the truck, bracing his hands against it. Lowering his head, he asked in resignation, "What do you want?"

"I've been trying to get away from Todd since he found me, but I can't just pack up and leave, not when I have Tyler and Lucy coming with me," she explained in a quiet tone, fearing that with her luck Todd would somehow hear her. "Originally, I was going to pack the three of us in the truck and just hightail it outta here in the middle of the night like you're trying to do, but I haven't been able to scrounge up enough food, water, and random other shit that would guarantee us a chance at making it on our own. What's worse is that damn truck isn't going to last much longer and I can't ride that damn motorcycle to save my life. Even if I could ride it, only me and one of the kids would fit on it, but I can't leave it behind for a car which is the only thing we've ever come across."

"Sucks to be you," he muttered dryly. "So, where exactly do I come in?"

"The places we didn't look in Newel were probably stocked full of shit but we've come to learn that some certain places are more prone to be booby-trapped than others and are sometimes more trouble than they're worth. I can't promise you that we'll find her, but help me cram as much as I can into my backpack and some of the truck's compartments that Todd doesn't know about, and I'll show you every single place we skipped over," she promised, fighting hard not to shift nervously from foot to foot.

Brian looked at her incredulously. "That's it? You want to go on a shopping trip?"

She rolled her eyes, frustrated and in no mood for joking around, and snapped, "Help me get what I need so Tyler, Lucy, and me can get away from that son-of-a-bitch, and I'll help you find Bobby. Just make sure you bring me back."

"Don't you want to find a truck or something too? You did just say that this piece of shit's about to croak and you don't want a car."

She replied, "I'll deal with that myself. Todd's already made it clear that we're heading to a car dealership next to see what we can find, so hopefully there will be something there that'll hold my bike. All I've gotta do is make sure he doesn't find the supplies and figure out that I'm gonna run with Tyler and Lucy."

Silent for a moment, Brian did little more than stare at her before looking past the truck in thought, making hope flicker to life in her chest. He hadn't outright refused, so that was something.

After what was almost an eternity to her but realistically just a few seconds, he nodded. "Fine. Get whatever you need and let's go."

She breathed out a sigh of relief and started back towards her room to take on the most challenging part of this plan.

Telling Tyler what was going on.

* * *

_**Review, please! Reviews let me know that you wish for more!**_


End file.
